The castle library was quiet — as usual. Stone shelves wound around the tall chamber in spiraling tiers. Spellbooks, lore tomes, and histories old enough to crumble lined every creaking beam. The scent of dust, parchment, and old ink lingered in the air, and most warriors avoided it like the plague.
Not Jax.
He passed through on his way back from a council errand, hoping to snag a field tactics archive Finric kept referencing.
What he didn't expect to find was her.
Nova.
Alone.
Her vanilla scent was what gave her away. Standing in the Restricted Section near a table with a pile of books. Her silver-blonde hair mostly tucked beneath the hood of her cloak. She was flipping through a massive book with furrowed brows, mouthing the words as she read.
He froze. Did he just see her eyes glow? And was she speaking in a different language?
His legs carried him towards her before he realized what he was doing. She looked breathtaking and he stared for a second too long almost in a trance. She looked like the moon Goddess herself.
Then she noticed him.
Nova blinked, straightened instinctively, closed her book, and gave him a warm, polite smile. She dipped into a small curtsey — graceful despite the slight tremor in her hands.
"Gamma Thorne. How are you?"
Jax froze for half a second.
The curtsey.
The smile.
The Gamma Thorne.
He stared again — longer than he meant to — then shook himself with a quiet, incredulous laugh.
"Just Jax," he said. "Please. No need for all that."
It came out low. Warmer than intended. Almost… intimate.
He mentally kicked himself.
But Nova only tilted her head, studying him with those green eyes that never seemed to miss anything.
"You're the Gamma," she said softly. "It's only polite."
"Well," he countered, stepping closer, hands sliding casually into his pockets, "I'll consider it a personal favor if you drop the titles around me."
She blushed.
He absolutely felt it — like someone had lit a match behind his ribs.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, nodding at the shelves before he did something stupid like stare at her again.
"Oh… just something for Aeron," she said, brushing a strand of pale hair behind her ear. "He's having me research runic boundary theory. Specifically ward-fusion anchors."
She said it like she was describing laundry.
Jax blinked. "That sounds like three words that shouldn't be allowed in the same sentence."
She laughed softly. "Aeron says I need to understand how magical boundaries hold under stress. Something about… not blowing myself up."
"Always a solid life goal," Jax muttered. "I approve. Fewer explosions means fewer paperwork reports from me."
Her smile widened — shy, small, and unfairly disarming.
He scanned the shelf beside her, stretching up to pull a thick navy tome from the top rung. "You mean Runic Structure & Boundary Degradation?"
Nova's eyes lit instantly. "That's the one!"
Jax handed it to her with a grin so crooked it should've been illegal.
"Careful," he said, leaning just close enough that she had to tilt her chin up. "Keep being this impressive, and Aeron's gonna pretend he was the one who found you."
Her lips parted — surprised.
Then she laughed.
And Jax felt it.
Like the universe had reached over and flicked him in the sternum.
Hard.
He offered her the book fully — and their hands brushed.
Just a second.
Just skin to skin.
Nothing dramatic.
But it hit like a pulse.
A spark. Something waking up under his ribs.
She felt it too. He saw it — the way her breath hitched, the way her smile faltered just a fraction before she stepped back, clutching the book like a shield.
"I should go," she said softly. "I'm meeting Aeron soon."
"Of course," he replied — too neutral, too careful.
She hesitated — barely — then gifted him another small, warm smile.
"Thanks, Jax. For the help."
He nodded once, but something in his chest had already gone traitor.
Nova turned and walked off, cloak sweeping behind her.
Jax shoved his hands into his pockets and stared after her, feeling the ghost of that spark still humming in his palm.
"…I need a drink. Or a therapist. Or both."'
And for the first time in a long time, he wished he had a reason to walk into one of Aeron's lessons himself.
Just to be near her.
He exhaled slowly, trying to gather himself. Then his gaze drifted to the table where she'd been sitting. It was clear she had been here before as he noticed she left a few worn tomes still splayed open, pages thick with age and margins crammed with handwritten annotations.
One spine read Lunaglyphs and Lost Tongues of the Moonborn. Another, Silverborne Magic: Corruption, Cure, and Curse. The third made his brow furrow — The Tethered Soul: Death by Splitting.
But it was the last that made something cold stir at the base of his spine: Moondawn and the Bloodbound Star: Prophecies of the Dead.
What exactly was Aeron teaching her?